Of That Which Binds Them
by Lesera128
Summary: Glimpses of Robin and Marian's life... what was, what is, and what might eventually be...  AU.  Complete.   Robin/Marian


Of That Which Binds Them

By: Lesera128

Rating: M

Standard Disclaimer: I am playing in the BBC's sandbox. I know it, and I promise to leave things mostly as I found them...

Summary: Glimpses of Robin and Marian's life... what was, what is, and what might eventually be... A/U. Complete. [Robin/Marian]

Author's Notes: I have rated this story 'M' because it does contain some adult Robin/Marian interactions. Nothing too explicit (which is why I have refrained from putting on an NC-17 rating), but there is some good ole (and much needed in my opinion) Robin and Marian intimate interactions at a couple of places in the story that definitely fall into the hard-R/M category. The order of the story might be a bit confusing to some chronologically. I know it reads sort of like a stream of consciousness, but believe me when I say there really is a structure to it. Be warned. This contains MAJOR SPOILERS for all of season 2, including the finale... but ignores all of the events for season 3. I had started this before the finale aired, but it was easy enough to amend to work in the new stuff. I must also offer credit for a bit of Marian's dialog in places to the most excellent lyrics of Brooke Fraser. Her song "Arithmetic" particularly inspired this piece, and I highly recommend it for Robin and Marian fans. I think that's it for now... so enjoy.~

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><p>Later generations would often share their tale, slightly altering the circumstances of their lives from what had happened over time so that eventually the only thing that universally remembered was his love for her and her love for him.<p>

The truth of the situation, the truth of that which bound them together throughout time, was a bit more complex and infinitely more interesting than the tales the bards would sing centuries later.

His story, and in many ways hers, lay linked by dreams and delirium and memories of what lay in between.

* * *

><p>In the Holy Land, he called out her name in a fevered delirium.<p>

The king's surgeon walked out of the warm tent and into the early morning sunlight. Two men waited outside, both tired and haggard looking, both concerned more than either was willing to admit about the life of the man who lay inside the tent.

"How is he?" King Richard asked softly.

The surgeon could not raise his gaze to meet that of his king's. Instead, he slowly shook his head. "He has last much blood. And, an infection has set in... the sword he was stabbed with was dirty, perhaps even poisoned."

"Are you telling me that my master is dying?" the second voice asked with more nervousness present in it than the first had betrayed.

To the servant, the surgeon dared raise his eyes. "I am saying that he is very weak and in a fevered delirium. He continues to rant and rave... most of what he says is unintelligible. The only thing we can make out is a name he keeps mumbling in his rantings. He keeps calling for someone named Marian... I've had to have him tied down in order to restrain him lest he brake open the stitches."

"And, yet, you still don't answer his question," Richard observed matter-of-factly. "Is the Earl of Huntingdon dying?"

"The earl?" the surgeon asked in confusion. "But the earl is in England. It is his son..."

Richard shook his head. "We just received word. Lord Thomas is dead." Richard then sighed before he said, "And now, Friar, I must ask you to answer the young lad's question. Is Robin of Locksley soon to follow the path of his father's?"

The surgeon at last looked up at his king, sadness evident in his eyes. "I don't see how he cannot," the surgeon said simply. "It is in God's hands now."

Richard nodded. "Do what you can to keep him comfortable, Friar Tuck."

"Yes, my Lord," the surgeon nodded before he turned to enter the tent.

Richard looked to young Locksley's servant. "You care very much for your master, do you not, Much?"

Much lowered his head. "I owe everything I have to him," Much said softly. "And, now I have failed him. I swore to protect him, and..."

"And, you could do nothing to protect him while he was protecting *me*," Richard said quietly. "Tell me, Much - before Locksley left England, I know Lord Thomas had betrothed him to Lord Edward's daughter. Did they marry before he left? Do they have any children? Should-" Richard paused before he continued, "Should Locksley follow the path of his father, I would like to immediately confer his lands and titles on his son."

Much shook his head softly. "I am afraid that is impossible, my Lord. My master has no son..."

Richard sighed in sadness. "It is a sad thing when a family line dies out. But, I give my word here and now that I will do all I can to see that his widow is provided for... Locksley has been a good and loyal soldier. His goodness shall not go unrewarded."

Much again shook his head slowly. "That is very kind, Your Majesty, but I am afraid my master has no wife to yet make a widow. The marriage never took place."

"The marriage never took place? But why? Both Lord Thomas and Lord Edward themselves were ecstatic about the match. I even remember when they presented their petition for the marriage to precede at my court when I met with my mother at Poitiers..."

"It was not from lack of encouragement and agreement by either Lord Thomas or Lord Edward, sire, but from the Lady herself... She could not forgive my master for leaving her and refused to go through with the marriage before Lord Robin's departure," Much said.

Richard looked up as the groans from the tent became louder. Through the stillness of the morning light, Robin's mutterings could be heard. Shaking his head, Richard said, "And, yet, even in his dying moments, he still calls out her name?"

Much nodded slowly, "Aye, my Lord. Aye."

* * *

><p>It was difficult to think when it was so hot. He was so hot and so thirsty and so tired. It was too bright, and he couldn't concentrate. All he knew was that he must not give up. A series of images floated in front of him reminding him of that which kept him bound to this world…..<p>

A pale face framed by long dark hair with soft brown eyes... A face that played in his mind, dominating his memories from those earliest he could remember in childhood to right before he had left England four years before...

-as a baby, his father carried her to the baptismal font in the church while he watched, not really understanding who she was or why his father carried her in his arms instead of Robin himself. He had no understanding of the words that had repeatedly explained to him that her mother, Lady Elizabeth, was in heaven and could no longer take care of her daughter so they must do it for her. He did not understand the reason why his father now charged him with protecting this annoying bundle that annoyingly shrieked at even the slightest movement. He did not understand why he had to be here in this hot and stuffy and dark church at all. It wasn't Sunday. It wasn't time to go to church. It was Saturday, and the sun was shining, and he longed to go outside to play with the other boys from the village. And, most importantly, he didn't want to have *anything* to do with that annoying baby. He was a big boy and big boys had no logical reason whatsoever for having anything to do with little babies.-

-as a young girl, she stood next to him before the bishop, dressed in an ornate gown of red velvet and gold thread while her father stood to her left and his father stood to his right. The bishop droned on and on causing both her and him to loose interest quickly. He smiled at how her, unused to seeing her dressed so beautifully in clothing that made her seem so much like a girl. She saw his appreciative glance and responded by stomping her right foot down on his left instep before she punched him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, causing the bishop and both their fathers to take notice. Trying to take advantage of the situation, she attempted to run away, afraid of what he might do to her once he caught his breath. Unfortunately, her father was quicker than she was, clamping a hand down tightly on her shoulder to keep her in place before nodding to the bishop that he should continue with the betrothal ceremony.-

-as a slightly older girl, she stood in front off him with her arm raised and sword ready to strike. The distinct clang of metal on metal shook the air as she quickly made her move and he parried. Muttering in exertion, she matched him movement for movement so that the sweat beading on his brow began to fall distractingly into his eyes. And, yet, still she fought and so still he defended, unwilling to concede defeat.-

-as a young teenager, she ran as fast as she could to get away from him. She would not let him catch her, would not let him win again. He was too tall, and his legs were too long, and he was much too fast. Time and time again he managed to chase her as they played tag, both of them shrieking happily in willful mirth. Time and time again she lost. And, yet, still he chased and so still she ran, unwilling to concede defeat.-

-as a slightly older teenager, she lay next to him in a field as the sun began to set. Her head on his shoulder, she absently ran her fingers up and down the side of his tunic, rhythmically stroking his chest. She sighed in contentment as the warmth of the afternoon faded away, leaving the two of them alone with his hand encircling her waist, pulling her more closely too him.-

-as a young woman, she sat at her window waiting for him. Every other night, he came to her window and almost every other night, she sent him away. However, on some nights, when the moon would catch the blueness in his eyes in just the right way, she would extend her hand and pull him through the window. These times were rare and often were the instances that produced his most vivid memories. She would pull him away from the chilly drafts of the window, most often to woven rug that lay before the embers of a once blazing fire. Once, and only once, did she pull him towards her bed. He was clumsy, and she was clumsy, but somehow the excitement made their joint clumsiness seem graceful. Although they dared not remove their clothes, in the warmth of her bed, hands were allowed to roam where they would. Embarrassment battled curiosity, with embarrassment eventually winning the duel. She would caress him ever so slightly, completely by accident, and he would pull away, scared of how he felt when he was near her. That one person should hold so much complete and total power over him scared him more badly than he would ever admit. She turned away from him as he turned away from her and after that, the late night visits to her window stopped.-

-as a slightly older young woman, she stood before the same window he had come to so many nights before, and for the first time in his life, he saw her cry. The tears only lasted for a minute before she allowed the hurt and rejection to transition into anger. He was startled when he reached out to pull her into a comforting embrace. Instead, he was shoved harshly away, and she slapped him so hard on the face that it left his ears ringing for hours. The shrillness of her yell startled him again as she screamed at him for the first time since infancy. When she quickly lifted a golden cup that she used as a flower vase and threw it at his head, he again was so stunned that he forgot to duck. He did not remember anything but blackness when the gold cup collided with his temple. He did not remember waking up and seeing Much stand over him as his loyal friend and servant called his name. He did remember Much holding a cold compress to his temple, and he did remember his father's doctor stitching the gash on his forehead before he was to set sail from Bristol. He did remember the many taunts the other noblemen's sons shouted at him about it being a bit unusual for a crusader to go to the Holy Land *with* wounds already inflicted. But, most of all, he remembered the last time he saw her face, an angry storm of rejection, anger, fear, and pain after he told her he was going to war. And then she swore she would not marry a dead man, for that was what she considered all crusaders to be. After all, once you left for the Holy Land, everyone knew that you never came back alive… and if you did manage in some way to cheat feat and live long enough to come home, the same man who returned was never the same one who had left in the first place.-

...and still, it was her lovely face in all its incarnations that he held in his mind as it finally became a little less hot, a little less difficult to move forward. It was her lovely face that calmed him as he struggled less and tried to comply with the commands faraway voices begged him to follow. And it was with her name on his lips that he finally awoke one morning when everyone in King Richard's camp had long ago written him off for dead, even the king, everyone except dear, dear Much.

And it was with her image safely locked in his mind that he at last answered the king when asked what it was he wanted most, for if it were in the king's power to grant it, Richard would do everything he could to ensure that Robin of Locksley had his just reward. And his answer, so simple, never surprised the king when Robin of Locksley, newly made Earl of Huntingdon, asked as his reward to be allowed to go home.

* * *

><p>Their meeting did not go as he hoped. All the progress he thought he had made as a person, all the maturity and seriousness he felt that the Holy Land had beaten into him was instantly stripped away when he stood before her front door. She stood in front of him once more, looking just as angry as when he last saw her, once again brandishing a weapon at him, this time choosing as her weapon, instead of a gold cup, a bow and arrow.<p>

He continued to try to use the charm and wanton flirting skills he had developed in the Holy Land to cajole her into forgiving him. Over time, the old memories came to be replaced with new, the one constant being her face dominating every facet of his every thought.

Ultimately, it was not his self-perceived advancements in maturity that at last resulted in her anger thawing towards him in just the slightest, but it was the threat of external pressure that changed her reactions.

The Sheriff of Nottingham (the new one, not her father) and his self-appointed lackey Guy of Gisbourne pushed both her and him together as he never expected. Incident after incident and their subsequent emotional responses brought them a few inches closer to reconciliation...

-her anger towards him when she found him holding another's baby and asking her to care for it. He misperceived her anger on that day, he would later find out. Despite what she said, she rejected his pleas for help not because of his assumption that she was a woman and would care for any baby, but because it pained her to have him presenting her with an infant to care for that should and would have been *their* child if he had not abandoned her to serve King Richard.-

-his curiosity and thankfulness at her gentleness at tending his wounded arm despite her harsh words as yet another wound needed stitching and forced him to reveal the truth about old scars. While he reluctantly told her of the king's assassination attempt in the Holy Land, and how he had almost given his life in protecting that of his king's, he could never let her know that it was she whose memory kept him alive during the darkest hours of his life.-

-his disbelief as her words pierced his heart when she rejected him and accepted Gisbourne, in her bedroom at Knighton Hall, no less… in the very same room where he had once come to her window and been joyfully let in to take less serious liberties with her person than it seemed that she now willingly granted to Guy of Gisbourne.-

-his grief as he felt the warmth of her blood seep over his finger tips and the shallowness of her breath rattle one final time in her chest. It had often been said that men went mad in the Holy Land, but he had never experienced such a transformation until that moment when he thought she was dead. He heard nothing, he saw nothing, he felt nothing, nothing but hatred and a need for revenge against those that had stolen her from him. For the duration of that particular fight with the Sheriff's men, for the first time in his life, he supposed it could be said that he truly was mad.-

-his relief when Djaq told her that she still lived. The madness that had taken hold slowly ebbed away to be replaced with sheer, unadulterated relief and happiness.-

-his surprise out how light she felt as he pulled her up on his horse after she had run away from Locksley's Chapel and her wedding day to another man. The day was perfect as were the location, dress, and bride. But, the groom standing in his place made the entire situation all wrong, and he felt more happy than he could remember as they galloped away to Nottingham Castle to rescue her father.-

-their hunger as lips met for the first time from such an awkward angle, he on his horse, she on the ground, both with tasks to do and precious little time to spare for such luxuries as mere physical displays of their recently admitted affection.-

-her excitement and fear at this change in their relationship when they next encountered each other. She invited him to visit her window, and he promised he would come, which he did. But each time she invited him through the window, it was he who now refused to come inside all the way, fearful of the adult being able to demonstrate the self-control which the teenager had unexpectedly shown in the same position years before.-

-her grief when she realized her father was dead, her home had burned to the ground, and there was no longer anyone or anyplace, in the world that she could claim was completely and utterly bound to her.

On that day, the day after her father's death, he found her sitting on a tree stump not crying, but simply rocking back and forth. The numbness was overwhelming. And in her grief, she became a bit shocked when that which finally cut through the numbness was not his touch of her, but her touch of him.

Pulling him down roughly onto the forest floor, this time she was neither clumsy nor curious. This time, she acted with precision and determination. Adroit hands unlaced the thongs binding his outer tunic to his upper frame, quickly pulling it off his body. She would have torn the soft but worn cotton shirt he wore underneath his outer tunic if she could have, but instead yanked it above his head as that stripped him more quickly. This time, she would not settle for brief caresses hidden underneath the darkness of night and the thickness of clothing. She hungered for him, she burned with determination.

Surprise so clouded his brain so that it took some very long seconds before he realized what she was doing. He was stripped half-naked before his brain finally was cognizant enough to start issuing orders for his body to carry out. But, while the surprise had dissipated, confusion instantaneously took its place as he contemplated what was happening, how and to whom. If he let her do what she was doing, would that mean that he was taking advantage of her given that her father had just died and her home had just burned down? And if so, how much of a problem did he have with that? Yes, it wasn't the most honorable of situations to be in, but he loved her, and if what she was doing to him was any indication, she had to love him, and-

"Robin," she breathed.

He was jerked instantly from his reverie and internal debate as he simultaneously heard her whisper his name and felt a corresponding caress inside his trousers.

"How did you...?" His brain could not comprehend how she had so quickly unlaced his trousers and proceeded to reach just where she should if she wanted to...

"Marian," he breathed her name as a hushed prayer of exasperation. "You can't do *that*."

In that moment, he stopped being just he and she stopped being just she. Instead, they became Robin and Marian, Marian and Robin.

Marian heaved a sigh of frustration, but didn't let go of him. "Why not?" she asked breathlessly.

"Because," he protested, "This..." He shrugged at the dampness of the dark clearing. "This isn't how *it* should be."

Refusing to give in, just as she always had when she felt challenged by him, she squeezed him a bit harder.

"I don't care," she murmured. Sliding her body so that it pressed hard up against his with only her hand between the two of them, she said. "I am tired of waiting for what is right, Robin. I wait for what is right, and each time I have been rewarded with anything but that which I longed for… instead, I found myself richly reward, mind you, with broken betrothals, dreams of your death in the Holy Land, you being made an outlaw, my own almost fatal injury, and now the loss of my father and my home. I am done doing what is right. I am now simply doing what should be. *This* is what should be. Can't you feel it?"

The warmth of her caressing grip left him with little doubt as to what he was feeling. He doubted that he could honestly answer her query because all the blood that normally flowed to his brain to help him make accurate, split second decisions, was instead flowing in the opposite direction.

And, so, instead of doing what was right, Robin, for the first and only time in his life, acquiesced to what should be. Allowing some of his own aggression to shine forth, he had no verbal response for her query. Instead, he answered it with action, pulling her towards him as they rolled so that he was on top.

His hands were not as adroit at her hand been, and he never quite succeeded in stripping her of any of her clothing.. no, not really, as she had of him. Instead, with just a small amount of assistance from her, he managed to untangle the leather thongs holding her trousers together. Pushing them down, he groped for her warm softness.

"This will hurt," he breathed.

"I don't care," Marian whispered back.

There was little gentleness in his actions as he used his hand to guide himself into her. And, there was little gentleness as he pushed forward and felt Marian stiffen slightly at the uncomfortable intrusion. And, with only a touch of what little gentleness he possessed, he pushed forward. She gasped, and he gasped. And, then they began to move, Robin not registering anything but her enveloping warmth and tightness and her breath on his cheek as he continued to thrust. And when he concentrated on his own release, he cried out her name feeling only briefly as she dug her nails into his back and pulled him tighter to her.

When the stars had disappeared from behind his eyes, Robin looked down and saw Marian looking up at him with a strange glint in her eyes.

"Marian?" Robin asked, unsure what to say without it sounding too trivial, too trite.

She reached a hand up to his forehead and brushed a lock of his hair away from his eyes. She said nothing, but kept looking at Robin with that same strange look in her eyes.

"What are you staring at?" Robin asked softly.

Marian shook her head, "I'm not sure anymore."

Confused by her words, Robin moved to pull away, but Marian was, as ever, just slightly faster than him. She reached up and pulled him back towards her so that he was rested on her chest, his head lying on her shoulder. She whispered, "Don't go."

Robin moved only slightly to lift his head so that he could look at her.

"I don't know what we're doing here anymore," Robin said softly. "I only know that I feel incredibly selfish doing what we've just done."

"You finally bag the girl and you're telling me that you feel guilty about doing it?" Marian laughed.

Robin flushed slightly. "My moral center is a bit out of balance at the moment."

"And I'm thankful for it," Marian whispered. She clung to him as she said, "How could you ever think that you weren't the one I wanted?"

Robin suddenly shivering, but not from the cold, turned away. "Fear," he offered at last. "Fear of losing the one you love more than life itself, not to be trite, can make one do and believe crazy things."

"That's why it had to happen like this," Marian whispered. "You're it, Robin. You're the one. Not Gisbourne, it's never been anyone but you. At times, I may do things that I will instantly regret, but never this. Never you. We always put everyone but us first. Locksley- Knighton - my father, the king... Everyone but us. This way, in the place, here and now, there is no need for that. Of all the things I'm certain of, this is what feels right the most. And even if other things think that it is right or wrong, as I told you, *this* is what should be... between the two of us, just the two of us. And now it is."

"And now things will change," Robin said.

Marian shook her head, "They were already changing. Losing my father and my home just made me realize that." Gently prodding Robin to roll over, Marian moved with him so that they were on top and leaned down to kiss him. "And now, no matter what happens, they happen on *our* terms. Nobody else's. Not the sheriff's, not Gisbourne's, and not the king's. Just us."

Robin couldn't help but groan as he said, "I really have to tell you have strange it is to finally be doing something that I've been dreaming about doing for years, and all you can do is talk about the bloody sheriff, bloody Gisbourne, and the bloody king."

Marian arched an eyebrow and ignored most of what he had said, "Doing what exactly, now, Robin?"

"Being inside you," Robin breathed in her ear. Marian shivered at his words and the warmth of his breath.

"And now?" Marian said.

"And now," Robin said as he placed a kiss on her forehead, "Now we, however much I would rather not, have to get up, because I have a rock cutting into my back that I think it paralyzing me."

Marian laughed and reluctantly pulled away from Robin. She winced as he withdrew.

Robin noticed and shrugged, "I did warn you."

Marian shrugged, "I'll be sore for a couple of days. Nothing more." She then paused as Robin stood and extended his arm to help her stand, "Besides, it was worth it."

Robin laughed as he pulled her into another kiss...

All those moments and more combined to bring them closer and closer together until the ties which bound them ultimately became ties which could never be broken.

* * *

><p>In a drafty and cold bedroom in the manor house of Locksley, she called out his name in her fevered delirium.<p>

The midwife quickly exited the birthing room, tuning out the moans and groans behind her as the door shut. Moving to the two men waiting outside, she noted how both were so tired and haggard looking, each concerned more about the other than either was willing to admit as they awaited news of the woman who lay inside the birthing room just behind her.

"How is she?" Will Scarlett asked.

"The countess is not well," the midwife said bluntly. "She has lost much blood. She should not have been riding at so far a point into her pregnancy. The fall has jostled the baby and broke one of the countess' legs. She is in intense pain, and in little condition to give birth to her child."

"Are you telling me that my lady is dying?" the second voice asked with more gruffness in it than the first.

To the second voice, the midwife dared raise her eyes. "I am saying that she is very weak and in a fevered delirium. We fear infection has set in… her humors are all out of balance. She continues to rant and rave... Most of what she says is indecipherable. The only thing we can make out is a name she keeps mumbling in her rantings. She keeps calling for someone named Robin Hood... I've had to have her tied down in order to restrain her lest she harm herself further and upset the splint the doctor made for her leg."

"Robin Hood is the earl, you daft twit," John said in frustration. "Do you not know anything?"

"I live a simple life, my lord. How am I to know that the earl and Robin Hood are the same man?" The midwife said.

"Stop changing the subject," John said.

"I am *not* changing the subject," the midwife protested.

"And, yet, you still don't answer his question," Will Scarlett observed matter-of-factly. "Is the Countess of Huntingdon dying?"

"I am saying," the midwife said to Robin of Locksley's steward, "It is in God's hands now."

The midwife left and turned to reenter the room. Will looked to where Little John stood next to him. "Robin entrusted me to look after his wife and his lands while he went with King Richard. How am I supposed to tell him that his wife and child are both dead? I don't know how to do it, John, because, if anything happens to her, Robin won't be able to deal with it," Will said.

"Then we must make sure that nothing happens to Marian now, mustn't we?" a third voice said from the shadows.

Both Will and Little John looked up in shock as they saw a small and wiry figure step out of the shadows. Nodding at them once, the source of the new voice smiled once at Will before entering the room where Marian lay.

* * *

><p>It was difficult to think when it was so hot. She was so hot and so thirsty and so tired. It was too bright, and she couldn't concentrate. All she knew was that she must not give up. A series of images floated in front of her reminding her of that which kept her bound to this world…..<p>

A tanned face framed by short brown hair with piercing blue eyes... A face that played in her mind, dominating her memories from those earliest she could remember in childhood to right before he had left England once again, shortly after their marriage...

-her heart pounding so hard that she imagined it would burst out of her chest when she thought Robin dead at the sheriff's hands and then saw him alive and well in Nottingham.-

-the unimagined acute sharpness of pain as Gisbourne stabbed her with the sword in the Holy Land. The dagger wound he had inflicted before was painful, but nothing compared to the sheer terror she felt that he would kill her and leave Robin all alone. There was so much blood and she became tired so quickly.-

-the pain in his eyes as she felt herself slipping away from him. The pain too much to bear and the terror in Robin's eyes as she saw him leaving her behind. The hot sun beat down on her as the sand burned her skin raw. Her last bit of strength was used to honor her vow to him and become his wife. She didn't remember the wording of the vows, but she did remember the look of love on his face as Robin placed the king's ring on her finger. And, then, the light started to fade. She closed her eyes and dozed, hearing snippets of conversation. They would bury her under a crusader's cross, her vow just as valid as anyone else's. She remembered trying to open her eyes and finding that she had no strength to do so. She remembered hearing Robin screaming from very far away, and then a peaceful silence for a time before awakening to blinding pain as the sun still beat down on her relentlessly, without mercy and without respite.

And, then there was light and loudness as an old Saracen woman treated her with Djaq and Will Scarlett looking down on her with concerned eyes. She remembered being carried on a gurney over rough terrain to the sea. She slept for a time, having no knowledge of how much time and distanced passed. The next time she opened her eyes, she saw the water and thought of the color of Robin's eyes. She slept again, and then, amazingly, the next time she awoke, Robin's real eyes were looking down at her. He cradled her so tightly that she hurt all over, but his hushed whispers of love acted as a soothing balm to her. The reunion was unexpected and heartfelt, and Robin looked younger than she had ever seen him as he tended to her while they sailed home. He continued to say every time she awoke that he loved her and only her and Marian smiled each time he did it. -

-his unwillingness to enter the manor without letting Marian understand. He turned to her and said, "You know that even while Gisbourne was here, this place always remained my home?"

Marian nodded and said, "Of course. How else do you think I refrained from setting it on fire?"

Robin laughed. He gestured to the stairs. "Come, it is late and we are both tired."

Marian frowned and said, "Even though I always thought of it as your home, I don't know if I can sleep in the room he slept in..."

Robin's eyes twinkled as he said, "And I would never take you to a room where he had slept. Surely, you noticed that Gisbourne used the master bedchamber? My father's bedchamber? He never slept in my room."

Marian's eyes widened as realization set in... and Robin laughed. "Come on, I'm tired and I won't be able to carry you over the threshold to avoid that ill step of bad luck if you don't get a move on. And, my love, the one thing I think this marriage needs no more of is bad luck, don't you think?"

Marian laughed, but came towards Robin nonetheless. Turning left at the landing instead of right, Marian moved to enter Robin's chamber and found herself swept up in her husband's arms. She squealed as she found herself swept over the threshold. Robin planted a kiss on her forehead before tossing her on the bed. Looking at the smallness of the room, Marian commented absentmindedly, "I suppose I shall have to ask Will about renovations to make it larger."

Robin stopped unlacing his boots before he shrugged and said, "Whatever for?"

Marian rolled her eyes and then looked at Robin as he continued to undress. Before she realized it, he stood clad only in a loose pair of cotton leggings and a white cotton tunic. He moved to the other side of the bed, and Marian eyed him warily. He noticed her hesitation and shook his head. "Don't worry. I promise I won't try anything." Marian continued to frown and Robin added mischievously, "At least, not tonight."

Marian nodded and said, "I understand why you can't - at least tonight - but humor your wife, my Lord earl."

"What?" Robin asked in curiosity.

Marian smiled a wicked smiled, "Loose the shirt."-

-Weeks passed as Robin and Marian settled into an unfamiliar type of domestic bless. And, then, the summons from King Richard came and Marian tried not to duplicate her behavior the first time from when Robin left. She reasoned, he counter-reasoned, she pleaded, he pleaded, she cried, he remained silent. In the end, she relented.

"I would not have us part as we did before," Marian one night as the readied for bed.

Rubbing the scar at his temple, Robin nodded, "And my head thanks you for it."

Marian frowned as she sat at her dressing table. She continued to comb her hair and then began to braid it, Robin watching her in silence. Abruptly, the silence was broken as Marian spoke. "We have never made love," Marian said as she finished braiding her hair one evening not long after their marriage shortly before he was due to leave for the Holy Land with King Richard.

Robin eyebrows arched in confusion. "You mean that wasn't you who seduced me in Sherwood forest?"

"I did not seduce you!" Marian said in exasperation. "If anything, you seduced *me*."

Robin laughed. "Yes, I can see how you running me down and jumping on top of me and stripping me of my clothing before I knew what in the hell was happening could be considered as only a masterful and perfect seduction on my part."

Marian moved to the bed and sat next to Robin as she said, "I don't remember you complaining at the time."

"Mmm," Robin said as Marian began to stroke his brow. "Either way, I don't see how you can't count that as..."

"Because," Marian interrupted Robin, "that was sex. Lustful, pure, unadulterated sex on the cold and damp floor of Sherwood Forest. Making love is different, you dolt. And I would like to think that when one makes love, a nice and comfortable bed is somewhere involved."

Robin's eyes narrowed as he looked at Marian. Her eyes had darkened as she leaned in to kiss him, "You haven't even so much as touched me since then... I thought marriage would make it easier for you to share my bed, and it seems as if you have been even more chaste since we took our vows."

Robin averted his head slightly to keep Marian's lips from his as he said quietly, "At first, you were so badly injured and then there was the journey home and then that damn flu you had a few weeks ago. It hardly seemed proper."

"And now?" Marian asked, pulling back slightly.

"And now, I would not risk leaving you with child while I go to fight in the Holy Land," Robin said bluntly.

Marian had to refrain from laughing out loud. Poor sweet Robin. He was so unobservant and completely oblivious to what was going on around him, least of all the changes in her, including what could only be called weight gain that was more than slightly mild. Realizing at once that if he knew the truth before he left that he would not do his duty to the king, Marian relented. Turning her back to him, she snuggled into the bed and pulled the blanket tight around her. Robin came to snuggle next to her as he whispered. "Does this mean I am forgiven?"

Pursing her lips, Marian said, "I suppose so, as long as you remember what I said. We've never truly made love, you dolt."

Robin laughed. "Well, think of it this way. It will give us both something to dream about until I return."

Marian remained silent but her response was unnoticed by Robin as she smiled a secret smile and went to sleep.-

-Marian pressed the object tightly into his palm, grasping him so hard that he thought whatever it was would cut him as she whispered, "Keep it close to your heart, and it will keep you safe." She pulled back and reached up to kiss him. Parting after the long kiss, Marian again whispered, "Don't make me have to come after you, Robin Hood. The last time I went to the Holy Land, I did not find it to be all that agreeable an experience."

She pulled away and watched him nod before he turned and mounted his horse. Looking down into his hand, he then opened it to see the medallion Marian had pressed into his hand, a circle of gold with a ruby shining on a chain of gold. He looked down at her, "But it's your wedding ring. Marian, I can't take this."

"I already have a piece of you to keep me safe here, Robin. Take it, please," Marian said with a smile. Her words never completely registered in Robin's senses as he nodded and turned to leave. It would be days before he found the bound parchment tied together in the bottom of his pack, sealed by Marian's own hand and whose contents clarified her words...

'Whether it was your or me, consider the 'seduction' a success. When next you return, I shall be waiting with either an Edward or a Robert to greet you. Marian.'

Robin looked down at the words on the parchment, Marian's final words finally becoming clear, 'I already have a piece of you to keep me safe here, Robin.' And it was true, he realized at last. She did have a piece of him. Perhaps one of the most important, he reflected, as he thought of her words.

"An 'Edward' or a 'Robert'? Oh, God, she wouldn't do that to a baby. Not 'Robert', surely?" Robin laughed. He then paused as he reflected, "Then again, knowing Marian, yes, she would. Oh, my poor son. Forgive your mother... she knows not what she does to saddle you with a name like Robert of Locksley."

The words took some time to again register for Robin as he contemplated the idea. A son. His son. Marian's son. Their son.

He then looked up with a sigh. "And now what the hell was the point of me staying away from her if the damage had been done?" He shook his head, a grin still playing across his face.

Vague voices started to penetrate the thick haziness of Marian's fever.

"But she is a Saracen, lord!" The midwife screeched at Will from beyond the door. "She is a heretic, and you are letting her attend the countess. It's sacrilege, I tell you, sacrilege."

"A Saracen she may be, but she is also one of the Earl of Huntingdon's dearest friends, sent by him from the Holy Land to look after his wife. Her knowledge of medicine is unparalleled, and if she can do something for the Countess that you can't, then be quiet and get out of the way," Will said.

Djaq smiled as she turned to her work. Marian lay swathed in layer after layer of blankets. She was intensely pale and covered in sweat. Her eyes were glassy with the delirium of her fever. Moving to open the shuttered windows to let in fresh air and light, Djaq muttered in disgust, "Bah! What is it with this land of the English? Everything must be closed and in the dark. It makes no sense. None at all. We need light here, and fresh air. Will, help me." She nodded at the other windows as Will moved to her command.

Returning to the bed, Djaq quickly, but carefully, stripped Marian of the piled linens. "How can they expect you to do nothing but sweat when you have the weight of three sheep on you?" Djaq muttered.

Moving to examine Marian's abdomen, Djaq immediately assessed the situation. When she pressed her hands to the bulge in Marian's stomach, Marian's back arched slightly as she groaned in pain.

"Stupid, stupid midwife," Djaq spat out. "How can she expect you to push out a baby when the baby is not in a position to be pushed out? This truly is a land of illogical beliefs and behaviors."

Over the next few minutes, Djaq attended to Marian until she was at last ready to proceed with the delivery. Djaq called Marian's name several times to no response. It took another tactic to break through the delirium of fever and fatigue to get the young woman's attention.

"Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton," Djaq commanded. "You will wake up and listen to me now."

Marian thought, at some point, she heard Djaq's distant and muffled voice. She didn't understand how this could be possible given the fact that Djaq was in Acre with Robin, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, Marian at last wanted to concentrate on besides the heat and fatigue and overwhelming pain that enveloped her.

"Marian Fitzwalter," the voice commanded again. "You will wake up and do what you are told. Your child is in need of your help."

"Tired..." Marian mumbled at last, as she turned her head in Djaq's direction. "Too tired."

"Marian, you will listen to me. You must do what is necessary for your child," Djaq repeated.

"I can't," Marian whispered. "I can't."

"Then you would let your child die? Because that is what giving up means, Marian. You would let an innocent die because you are too tired? You are a better person than that, Marian," Djaq critiqued.

"I can't," Marian whispered again. "I just can't."

"Then you are letting your child die, and more importantly you are letting Robin's child die," Djaq said matter-of-factly, although she secretly knew it was the last card she had to play.

"Robin-" Marian whispered slowly. Her head tilted again. "Robin?"

"Yes," Djaq said, hopeful the tactic was working. "Are you going to let his child die and you with him because you are too tired? The woman who was once the Nightwatchman was a better woman than that. The Nightwatchman did whatever she had to do to protect the innocent."

"Robin," Marian whispered again.

"Yes, Robin, and for Robin's child," Djaq prodded. "Now, you must do as I say."

Somehow, Marian groaned in the affirmative. And it was with Robin's image safely locked in her mind that she at last did as Djaq demanded. A single final push used every ounce of strength she had left as she pushed Robin of Locksley's screaming child into the world before everything went black.

* * *

><p>"So, do I have an Edward or a Robert?" The Earl of Huntingdon asked the messenger who cautiously approached him. Although he wore the earl's own livery, Robin knew this man to be from England and not a part of his own contingent that had come to the Holy Land.<p>

"My Lord?" The messenger asked in confusion.

"You bring word from Locksley, I assume? From the Countess?"

"Aye, my Lord," the messenger said carefully, reaching into his belt to pull out a length of parchment.

"Then my child has been born. So tell me, do I have an Edward or a Robert?" Robin said jovially. Looking to the king who sat at his right, Robin smiled and said, "Before I left, she told me that she would do everything she possibly could to ensure the child was named and baptized before the missive for me with the news had even been written. And seeing as how I know Marian as I do, I am guessing I have either an Edward after her father or..." Robin grimaced as he continued, "a Robert after me."

"Robert?" Richard asked with a gleam in his eye.

Robin frowned, "Tis my baptismal name. Marian delights in tormenting me. She would be the one to use Robert knowing my distaste for the name."

"Hmmm, Robert?" Richard said with a glint in his eye. "I suppose the name 'Richard' never entered into your minds?"

Robin smiled as he slowly shook his head, "With all due respect, Sire, I think she would rather name the baby 'John' given the fact that she lays the blame for my frequent absences at your feet."

"Ouch," the king said as he looked away. "The Countess of Huntingdon is a harsh woman, after all, it seems," the king said with a small laugh.

Robin nodded and said, "Aye, that she can be when crossed, my Lord."

Turning back to the messenger, Robin smiled and said, "So which is it? Edward or Robert?"

Lowering his head, the messenger shook his head and softly said, "Neither, my Lord."

"Ah ha!" Richard exclaimed. "A pox on you both. It's a girl."

Robin turned to the king with a nod, "An occasion I must admit I had not thought much of... But, then at least, I know that the reason I have no Edward or Robert is because I have an Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?" Richard asked.

Robin nodded, "After her mother."

Turning back to the messenger, Robin smiled again and clapped the man on the back, "Why so glum, lad? News of a daughter is hardly a disappointment."

In an even smaller voice, the messenger said softly, "There was no daughter, my Lord."

At the messenger's words, Robin's jovialness evaporated instantaneously. Fear crept into his voice as he said at last, "What happened?"

"The babe came early, my Lord," the messenger said. "The Countess had been riding and there was an accident. She fell..."

The blood drained from Robin's face. He became so white that Richard stood immediately behind, to catch him lest he fall. "Marian?" Robin said at last.

Images of his father and Marian's mother danced in front of his eyes. He had no recollection of his own mother to recall because she had died giving birth to him just as Marian's mother died giving birth to her.

The messenger pressed the parchment into Robin's hands. Glancing at the script, Robin's heart fell to the floor, flat like a stone. The parchment carried Will Scarlett's distinct scrawl and well-known seal, not those of his wife.

Looking from where Robin stood clutching the parchment, to the scared messenger, Richard nodded and said, "As your king, I command you to speak… what does the bloody message say?"

The messenger shook his head slowly, "I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I don't know anything more than what I've already told you. I had barely arrived in Locksley from London when Sir William gave me the missive to depart. The little I did hear of the Countess was from the gossip of the kitchens."

Richard sighed. "Leave us then. But stay near in case your lord has need of you."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the messenger said as he backed out of the tent and quickly fled.

Richard looked back to where Robin had remained standing unchanged. After several moments of silence, Robin looked up at Richard and shook his head.

"Before I left, I begged her, I *begged* her to make sure that there would be no child. To wait, at least, until I returned so that I could be there with her. I even stayed from her bed for weeks before we departed to make sure, but, no, when Marian of Knighton decides that she will have things her way, come heaven or hellfire, she will have her way. She didn't tell me until after I had left that all my self-restraint had been for not. It had already happened before your return, you see, before, in the forest. God, why did this have to happen now?" He paused as he quickly turned away from the king to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. With his back turned to the king, Robin said, "You see, we both grew up without mothers. My mother and Marian's died giving birth to us."

"It is not an uncommon thing for even the strongest of women to die in childbirth, Robin," Richard said softly. "It happens every day."

"But not to *her* it shouldn't," Robin said as he spun around on his heel to face the king. "I lost her twice already. Once in Nottingham and once to Gisbourne's sword in the Holy Land. And each time I got her back. There is no such thing as a third chance."

Richard nodded at the parchment, "Open it, Robin. See what it says."

Robin looked down at the parchment. "I don't know if I can."

Moving more closely to him, Richard clasped his hand on Robin's shoulder, "Your king commands you, Earl."

Looking back at Richard, Robin sighed before he nodded and broke the seal. His eyes scanned the letter quickly before they stopped mid-parchment. Immediately, he cried out in laughter as redness colored his face. Richard looked confused as Robin looked up and immediately wiped away unshed tears once again.

"The messenger was right," Robin said. "I have neither a daughter or an Edward or a Robert."

"Robin?" Richard asked in confusion.

"I have a Thomas," Robin said with a wide grin. "I have a son named Thomas. 'After his father's father because the babe, though small, has green eyes like his grandfather and as restless an energy as has ever been demonstrated in Locksley men.' or so my reeve writes."

"And the Countess?" Richard prompted gently.

"Very weak," Robin said with a sniffle. "Weak, and for several weeks in a fevered coma, but alive. Marian is alive." Looking up, Robin gestured to the parchment as he smiled at the king, "But I am going to kill her when I get home."

"A son is good news, Robin," Richard said as he reached for a goblet of wine and handed it to the new father.

"Not so good as the news of his mother," Robin said accepting the goblet. "But you are right, it is good news nonetheless."

* * *

><p>It was some weeks even after he received Will Scarlett's message before Robin was allowed to depart from the Holy Land for England. By the time he had completed the journey home, almost a year had passed since his son's birth.<p>

The day that Robin finally rode back into the gates of Locksley Manor, he was greeted by a site that warmed his heart. Djaq sat in the front courtyard with Will Scarlett and a small child rolling around on a blanket as he struggled to stand on his own two feet. Both Will and Djaq laughed at the child's antics, but looked up in distraction when they heard the noise of the earl's retinue compounded by Much's loud exclamations of delight at finally being home.

Standing, Will moved to meet Robin and took his horse's reigns as the earl began to dismount. "Hello, Robin."

"Will," Robin said with a nod.

"We didn't expect you for weeks yet," Will said. "You should have told us you were coming. We would have met you."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Robin said with a bit of devilish playfulness creeping into his voice. He took a look around the manor and nodded, "It looks like things are prosperous."

Will shrugged, "Locksley has always been a good village when guided by a proper hand."

Robin then nodded to where Djaq remained on her blanket watching the child, "And it looks as if you have been prosperous as well. But why did you not write to tell me of your good fortune?"

Will turned to where Djaq said and immediately realized what Robin thought. He laughed as he said, "Oh, no, that's not - he's not what you think. Come here, Robin, there's someone I want you to meet."

Djaq remained seated and said nothing as she smiled and prodded the child towards Will. The baby squealed when he saw Will and laughed even harder as he extended his hands, and Will reached down to pick him up. Robin watched in amusement before Will reached out and handed the child to Robin, "Sir Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon, may I present to you Viscount Thomas of Locksley, your son, I believe."

Robin was caught a bit off guard as he took the child. Holding the baby in his arms, he was speechless for a second before he looked into the child's eyes. Nodding, he said, "You were right. He does have my father's eyes."

"I wish I could claim being the one who first noticed that particular detail, but I have to admit that it was the Lady Marian who noticed first," Will said. "But, don't be deceived by the eyes," Will cautioned. "Tom may have his grandfather's eyes, but he is every bit his mother's son."

"Stubborn and willful to the core?" Robin said with a laugh as he bounced his son in his arms.

"Yes, and as smart a child as I have ever seen to boot, but over the past few months, I have come to think he may even be a bit more stubborn and willful than she given the fact that he is just as pigheaded as his father at times," Will said with a laugh.

At last Djaq moved and nodded at Will, "Why do you English insist on calling people that which they are not. If Marian has said it once, she has said it a thousand times. His name is Thomas."

Will groaned as he shrugged, "He answers to Tom just fine."

"Nevertheless," Djaq said. "It is not his name."

The baby had stopped squealing as he looked into Robin's eyes. Leaning into his father's chest, he rested his head on his father's shoulder and began to suck his thumb. Looking down, Robin laughed, "Just like his mother."

Nodding towards Will, Robin said, "Speaking of, where is she?"

Will shook his head, "Sleeping, I think. She's taken to napping about the same time as Tom-"

"Thomas," Djaq interjected.

"-Tom, even if he refuses to sleep, so I wouldn't be surprised if she is not in your room."

"Good," Robin said as he turned to Much and nodded, "I think I'll take the baby up."

"Are you not going to warn Marian that you are home?" Djaq asked as Robin moved towards the house.

Robin turned and shook his head with an evil glimpse in his eye. "Now, where would be the fun in that? Besides, I think I owe my dear wife a bit of payback for the letter." Robin then nodded at Will as he said, "And don't think I've forgotten about your part in that either, Will Scarlett. It was a damn dirty trick."

Will flushed slightly, but said nothing as Robin entered the house.

As Robin moved up the stairs, he noted that the child had closed his eyes and was now dozing. Shrugging to himself, Robin laughed quietly. "It looks like you may have to fight your mother for that spot, you know?" The baby continued rhythmically to suck his thumb by way of response. Robin smiled as he reached the top of the landing and turned to his left. Reaching for the latch of his onetime bedroom, and now the place he shared with Marian, Robin turned the doorknob as quietly as he could.

Upon entering the room, Robin could see that Marian *had* made some changes as she had promised. The wall that had once separated his bedroom from one of the guest rooms had been removed. Through an archway, he could see a wardrobe and dressing area where Marian's things could be seen. His bed remained in the same place, although a beautifully embroidered counterpane of burgundy and silver thread lay in place of where his once plain blanket adorned the bed. Thick velvet curtains of burgundy also lay tied back, but Robin could think of several excellent uses that they might come in handy for on a cold winter's night.

The window shutters were partially closed, but cracked opened enough to let in a bit of afternoon sunlight. Robin could see near one window a small area where a beautiful cradle lay near the fire place. Instantly, Robin recognized Will Scarlett's expert craftsmanship in the etchings that adorned the cradle. Moving to place his son in the cradle, Robin had little difficulty prying the child away. The baby sniffled slightly, but curled into a ball as soon as Robin deposited him in the cradle. Tucking a soft blanket that he knew must be the product of Marian's handiwork around the baby, Robin placed one last kiss on the baby's forehead before turning back to his own bed.

Robin stepped carefully around to one edge of the bed to see Marian curled into a ball, similar to the position of her son as he lay currently in his cradle. She wore a long-sleeved linen shirt that looked vaguely familiar to Robin. Her hair was loose and splayed across her pillow. Marian looked peaceful, but somehow much older than when Robin had last seen her. Balancing on one foot at a time, Robin did his best to remove his boots as quietly as he could. Looking down at his mud splattered clothes, and comparing himself to the cleanliness of Marian and the bed's counterpane, he frowned. Shrugging, he pulled at his outer tunic and unbelted the leather trousers. The cotton leggings he wore under the trouser were sweaty, but at least it was not mud stained. His own cotton tunic was in a similar state. Realizing that the current state of his clothing was the best he could hope for until Much helped him to unpack his trunk, Robin stepped around the bed and pulled back the counterpane. Marian shifted slightly, but did not wake as Robin slid into bed with her. He reached for her instinctively, and Marian, even in her sleep was drawn to a new source of warmth in the bed. Robin sighed in contentment when he held her in his arms. Looking down at her beautiful face, he felt a true peace and sense of contentment that he was unaware had been missing in his life for some time.

However, as he looked at Marian, he could see the subtle changes in her face and body that he had not noticed from a distance. The most noticeable thing that caught his attention was the rhythmic movement of her chest up and down, and from the angle where he lay, he could see, at least to his best memory, that she seemed to be definitively more well endowed than when he had last left.

Fatigue suddenly melting away, Robin felt a stab of intense desire shoot through his veins. Moving his head down to the crook of Marian's neck, he gently began to place a trail of kisses down her shoulder as one of his hands snaked beneath the shirt and ran up and down the warmth of her back.

For her part, Marian did not immediately waken or respond. She remained in a warm and contented slumber, stretching luxuriously as she dreamed of him. She dreamed of his voice and his hands and his eyes and how he would look at her and whisper her name. She dreamed, as she often had since he had left Locksley, of how his voice sounded when he moaned her name with intense desire and of how his hands were so gentle but so precise when they ministered to her needs. She dreamed most intensely of their single experience in the forest, trying to remember clearly everything he had said and done and how he had felt to her in those stolen moments. And, if she was having a very good day, as perhaps this afternoon was turning out to be as compared to others, the dreams were sometimes vivid enough to bring her much needed release.

She imagined Robin's hands, slightly rough on her soft skin, playing across her back and up into her hair. She imagined him running his fingers through the long and tangled curls making her back arch with pleasure. She imagined him pulling her towards him, pressing his warmth down against her. And, she imagined the feel of his lips on hers and then on other places of her body - his lips were so soft, so gentle, so tender, and they felt so real. She felt a rush of content flood her body as she writhed in pleasure. Her dream continued, changing slightly so that it was most definitely the most vivid one that she had ever had before. It became more intense, more enveloping, more… real.

In her dream, she heard him whisper her name. She heard him whisper it as he had only done once before, in the forest when there had been no time for the simple pleasure of unrushed exploration. She replied in kind, calling out his name languidly, wishing against wish that her dream were more than a dream, as she had done more times than she could remember since he left for the Holy Land. Her dream lover surprised her slightly, this time, as compared with the vague and abstract ministrations when she previously had dreamed of her husband. This Robin was attentive and responsive to her needs as all the other Robins had been, but his ministrations were both deliberate and unpredictable.

Marian flushed with pleasure as she felt her nightshirt plucked over her head to be quickly covered with the length of her dream lover's body. The cold gust of breeze that rushed over her, in-between the removal of her shirt and her lover laying his body over hers, was just long enough so that her nipples tightened involuntarily. She gasped at the pleasurable pain, even more pleased when her lover turned pulled a part enough to begin kissing a trail of light and feathered kiss down her collarbone to her breastbone and lower. She giggled slightly at the ticklishness of his beard, unused to Robin's rough skin against hers whose was so soft. His moist breath tightened the soft peak of her nipples even more than the cold breeze had done. She murmured unintelligible words of pleasure as she continued to enjoy the ministrations of her dream lover.

With a bit of uncertainty, she again arched her back as she felt his rough and callused hands cup her heavy breasts, kneading them slightly, as if he was uncertain what he should do to bring her only pleasure and never pain. She pulled him to her, whining slightly in protest when she noticed that he was still clothed. As in all her dreams, the clothing disappeared almost instantaneously, being replaced with the smooth warmth of his skin against hers coupled with the most welcome feeling of his weight against her body.

This time, his hands came down to explore her body in a leisurely place as he continued to kiss her with his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth. It was a painfully sweet exploration. He tasted so real that Marian almost jerked herself awake in what she knew would be immediate disappointment. If she awakened, she knew the dream would end, so she willed herself to stay in the land between waking and dreaming that she now occupied. She reached up to trace the lines of his muscles, grown harder and more compact than she remembered the real Robin ever being. And there were more scars as well. It hardly mattered, as she ran her fingernails lightly across his back. Her dream lover had a swift intake of breath as he called her name.

Marian smiled in her sleep as she answered with his name, moaning "Robin."

At this point, the dream lover who was indeed not a dream lover, but instead the actual person, started to realize that Marian was perhaps not as fully awake as he had initially thought. Robin's response to Marian's initial actions had been unplanned but unified by their uncharacteristic gentleness. Marian's words were foremost in Robin's mind as he acted, ringing in his brain as they did, 'We have never made love.'

Thus, he had intended this coupling to be everything the first had not been - just as intense, but gentle, slow, and utterly pleasing to both. Over the many months he had contemplated everything about Marian, the one thing that had bothered him most as he replayed their tryst in the forest over and over again was that while he had obtained release, he was fairly certain that she had not, despite the pain she endured to give him release. That was a wrong Robin had intended to right at the earliest chance, and her warm and generous responses to his initial caresses had been all he had hoped for and more until she had begun to moan his name. That had stopped him, somewhat confusing him, because he had hoped his intended seduction would be memorable enough at least to awake Marian from her slumber.

And, so, for once, Robin deviated slightly from his plan of slow gentleness to get her attention. Reaching down, he parted her legs slightly enough to allow him access to that which he sought. At this movement, Marian's eyes flew open as her dream lover did the one thing her dream Robins had never, *ever* done in the past. They widened as Marian felt shock flood her being, her heart rate quickening.

"Robin?" She asked for verbal confirmation of that which she thought she was seeing.

Although slightly more tan and with a heavier beard than she remembered, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he smiled and said, "I would hate to think you would let anyone else take such liberties with you in our bed."

Marian's eyes teared up as she felt as a knot form in her throat. She moved to get up, but Robin had other ideas. He placed a finger to her lips with his free hand as he shook his head, "Don't you dare move."

"But," Marian protested. "What are you doing?"

Robin laughed as a single finger from his other hand slide into place causing Marian's inner muscles to clinch reflexively as she gasped in surprised pleasure. Robin lowered his head to her ear as he whispered, "I should think that obvious, wife."

"But," Marian argued weakly.

Robin shook his head as he silenced her with a kiss as a second finger slide into place causing Marian to shudder again. "Despite whatever you conscious brain may like to do, this is something *I've* been wanting to do for months. So kindly desist in your wordy diatribes and lay back and enjoy it, hmmmm?" Robin said with a devilish grin.

Marian squirmed as she got used to the strange feelings Robin's ministrations were evoking in her. He could feel her response as moisture continued to slicken his ablutions. He could also feel her tightening as he moved his fingers in and out, before at last coming to flick gently the nearby and most sensitive part of Marian's being. The first time he did what he was doing, Marian gasped again in shock. The second time he did what he was doing, Marian almost passed out from the pure pleasure of it. The third time he did what he was doing, Marian felt herself involuntarily arch her back towards him, pulling him close. But, it was the fourth time he did what he was doing that Marian at last found release in a split second of indescribable enjoyment. Leaning back in the bed, Marian at last looked at Robin with a dreamy lethargy pleasant in her soft brown eyes. She bit her lip shyly as she said at last, "That was... indescribable."

Robin grinned and leaned to kiss her again. "God, you are a stubborn woman."

"A thoroughly pleased stubborn woman," Marian said as she pulled Robin into a tight hug. He fell from where he was using his arms to balance over her with a distinct -oomph-. Marian laughed, but bit her lip when she heard the baby make a small noise of protest at the loud noise before he returned to sleep.

"Did somebody bring the baby up here?" Marian whispered.

Robin nodded.

Marian frowned in annoyance. "But why?" she mouthed.

"But why not?" Robin said.

"Shush!" Marian hissed as she placed a hand over Robin's mouth. "You'll wake him up and then we'll never get to finish this."

"Oh," Robin said as he lowered his voice. He then nodded at her with a sly grin, "So you noticed we weren't done?"

Marian laughed. Reaching under the counterpane, her hand brushed over a certain delicate part of Robin's anatomy as she said, "And here I was thinking you had merely brought your sword to bed with us."

Robin laughed and then had to bit his lip from being loud. Marian then looked up at him and smirked, "Shouldn't you be starting to turn blue by now?"

Robin laughed again into her shoulder to muffle the noise before he nodded. Marian nodded once herself before she said, "Then, what, may I ask, are you waiting for?"

Smiling a different kind of smile, Robin did not answer with words but actions. This time, he needed no help to guide him into her. This time, she was ready and willing and more than able to help him herself. Sliding into place, Robin immediately felt the rightness of the situation as he began to move in Marian, looking down into her eyes the whole time. This time, instead of pain and hurt, he saw eagerness and anticipation.

One of her hands slipped under the counterpane and began to do things to him that Robin had forgotten that she knew how to do. He was caught momentarily off guard as she whispered, "Don't stop, but don't go so fast. We aren't in any hurry."

Robin nodded, and slowed his strokes. For her part, Marian raised her hips and felt herself grind tightly into him each time he thrust forward. Her breath and heartbeat quickened as did his. It seemed like an eternity as she tried to hold on to wait for him. At last, Marian cried out his name in pleasure as wave after wave of it crashed over her. Robin followed shortly afterward, pouring the warmth of himself into her as he moaned her name over and over.

Marian flushed, but as beautiful as he had ever seen her, was the first to speak. She smiled, and as she had their first time, reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face. He smiled at the gesture as she said, "You remembered?"

Robin nodded again. Marian smiled. "Welcome home, my Lord earl."

"And here I was thinking it was a daring outlaw that you had let into your bed," Robin laughed as he reluctantly pulled out of her.

Sighing in exasperation, Marian said, "You mean, the outlaw who let *himself* into my bed."

"Mmmm hmmm," Robin murmured into her ear after he had lain back on the bed and she had curled into a ball at his side with her head on his shoulder. Looking down, Robin said, "You know, I found out today that your son likes that particular spot as well."

Looking up in curiosity, Marian said, "Oh really?"

Robin nodded. "I already told him he was probably going to have to fight you for it."

Marian chuckled. "Yet another piece of evidence that that little imp is just as annoyingly exasperating as his father."

It was Robin's turn to chuckle as he said, "And who says there is no balance in the world?"

Pulling away from her slightly, Robin said, "You know, I almost died when I read Will's letter."

Marian immediately felt a certain amount of redness creep into her cheeks as she nodded. "I immediately regretted doing that as soon as he had dispatched the messenger, but Will said you deserved it after letting me think that the Sheriff and Gisbourne had killed you… not once, but twice."

"Consider us even then, or more than even, as I believe you've used up three of your nine lives with me," Robin said.

Marian bit her lip as she said, "You really have no idea."

Nodding, Robin said seriously, "Tell me."

Marian shrugged, "It was stupidity really. I tried to ride when I shouldn't have... I was much too fat to be one a horse, thanks to you." Marian had jabbed him lightly in the stomach to which Robin grimaced.

"Hey!"

"Yes?" Marian said sweetly.

"Continuing on?" Robin prompted.

Marian shrugged. "He came early. The horse threw me, and I came down hard on my leg to avoid landing on my stomach. I broke the leg, but he was okay from the fall. My water broke instantaneously, and Will and John said there was a lot of blood. The midwife couldn't do much. She kept telling me to push when he wasn't ready to come out because it was so early, and he hadn't turned to be in a position to be delivered."

Marian paused as she looked faraway, taking a breath before continuing, "I labored for three and a half days with him. I was so exhausted by the time Djaq got here. If it wasn't for her, I have no doubt that I would be dead and the baby with me."

"But, you're both okay?" Robin prompted nervously.

Marian smiled as she nodded. "More or less. I took a very long time to heal. The post-delivery infection was quite bad, but I'm fine now, as is Thomas."

"Thomas," Robin tried the familiar but unfamiliar name on his tongue. "That is going to take a bit of getting used to... When I hear Thomas, I think of my father."

Marian laughed. "So did I, but as soon as you've been here all of a day, the new Thomas will make his demanding presence painfully obvious."

Nodding at the cradle, Robin said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "You know, an earl cannot willingly have just one son," Robin.

"Oh, really?" Marian said. "Is that in some ancient code I've never heard about?"

"Uh-huh," Robin said with an evil glint in his eye. "Besides, don't you want another chance to torment me with the 'Robert' name scenario?"

Marian considered this before she nodded and said, "That is one thing that was a down side to naming him Thomas. But-" Marian paused. She then jabbed Robin painfully in the shoulder again as she said, "If I did go through with it again and you weren't here, I think I would send some of Djaq mercenary friends after you in the Holy Land. You know she knows people, Robin."

Robin nodded with a smile, "Fair enough, but unnecessary. We've returned home for good."

"We've?" Marian said.

Robin nodded again. "The king left Acre after making pact with Saladin. The crusade is over for now."

"Thank god," Marian said as she rolled over and straddled Robin. "Because it is getting to the point where I find it entirely too enjoyable to have you in my bed once every eighteen months."

Laughing, Robin said, "The feeling's mutual."

"Good," Marian said. "Then care to break the cycle now?"

"Right now?" Robin asked with wide eyes.

Marian nodded as she reached down to kiss him but whispered first, "Right now."

"I'm ready if you are," Robin said eagerly. Marian shrieked unexpectedly as her husband then reached up and began tickling her, breaking their cycle gleefully and with complete and reckless abandon.

For the courtyard below, Much, Djaq, Will, and John looked in the direction of the shrieks of joy mingled with a baby's cry. John shook his head as he said, "How long do you think it will take them to learn to be more quiet?"

"How old is the baby?" Much asked.

"Almost a year," Djaq said.

Much nodded and said, "I would say that baby Thomas's little brother will be a big brother himself before they learn."

"What were the names Robin was complaining about again?" John asked as he looked at Much.

Much nodded, "Edward and Elizabeth he doesn't mind terribly much, but he abhors Robert."

"Anybody want to lay odds what baby number two is named?" Will asked.

Djaq was thoughtful for a moment before she said, "What is the female version of the name Robert?"

At this, the whole group laughed as they got out the coins they carried in their pockets and set about to laying wagers.

* * *

><p>The details of their story would eventually fade into oblivion. Later generations would often share their tale, slightly altering the circumstances of their lives from what had happened over time so that eventually only one thing of holistic and universal truth remained known of them, in many ways the thing which was the most important - the truth of his love for her and her love for him.<p>

~The End~


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